


Beecher's Hope and Other Happy Accidents

by inshadesofblue



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: A little angst, Beecher's Hope, F/M, Post Epilogue, before rdr1, more fluff though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22182067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inshadesofblue/pseuds/inshadesofblue
Summary: John and Abigail reminisce on the old gang and on their good friend Arthur.
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Abigail/John
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Beecher's Hope and Other Happy Accidents

It was another evening at Beecher's Hope. From John's spot on the porch, all he could hear was the distant occasional whinny of a ranch horse, or the chirping of a cricket. The sky was full of stars, and the lights inside the house spilled a warm, pleasant glow out onto the porch. Sometimes, John felt like he was living a dream here more than a reality. Yet here it was, the ranch, sprawling and so very alive, like he used to dream of so long ago. He had a full belly, and a full place out west with only his family to keep him company. That was the only company he ever really liked, anyways. 

He thought of Sadie and Charles, how they'd both left to find their fortunes elsewhere. He hoped they were both well, wondered if he would ever see either of them again. He didn't think of Arthur much, he tried not to, but recently the memories had been pulling on him, trying to claw their way into his mind once again. He just wished Arthur could have known, could have known that he had made this possible. John Marston wasn't sure he believed in heaven, but he knew that if it was real, Arthur would be watching.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of soft footsteps on the porch. He turned, and there was Abigail. She was barefooted, hair pulled back in a braid, wearing only a nightgown with a shawl over it to keep her warm. The light cast shadows over her face, and caused little flecks of gold to dance over her brown eyes.

"Evenin, Jim Milton," she said teasingly, her smile sly and mischevious. John would never admit it, but the way she teased him made him melt every time. Well, as long as it wasn't in an angry way. They had both had enough of that.

"Don't you start with me," John said with a chuckle. Abigail laughed with him, and took a seat beside him on the bench. "I've never been good with names."

"You don't have to tell me. I mean, what the hell kind of name is Rip Van Winkle?" Abigail said with a laugh.

John laughed with her for a moment, but then slowly stopped. He looked at the hat he had placed on the wooden porch, worn from so many years of being hauled around and used. Abigail followed his gaze.

"What's wrong?" She placed a hand gently on his knee, her smile slowly disappearing. 

"Nothin, darling, I just..." He trailed off, and placed his hand on top of hers, intertwining their fingers. "I miss Arthur. Seems like... like seeing Micah, seeing Dutch, I..."

He trailed off again, knowing Abigail already understood. He gazed off into the night, barely able to see the outline of the golden hills surrounding Beecher's hope. In the distance, he saw the glow of a lantern, somebody heading into Blackwater. 

"I do, too," Abigail said. "And Mary-Beth, Tilly... Hosea, too. He was always awfully kind to me. To both of us." The two shared a moment of silence after this, as John tried to find the words to express this emotion gnawing at him.

"Do you... do you ever wonder if- I mean, what would have happened if Dutch hadn't lost his damn mind like he did?" Part of John would always love Dutch, despite everything he had done. Still, there were too many things that couldn't be forgiven, and too many things John would never have a chance to say aloud. 

Abigail sighed, and leaned into his shoulder. She pulled her legs up onto the bench, and snuggled against him. "Sometimes. But Lord, I- I have my own house. I have a husband, a proper one." John kissed her forehead at that, to which she smiled. "I have a son who has more choices than just becoming an outlaw. I wish Arthur were here, I wish Hosea had made it out."

"But Arthur would want it this way," John said, finishing her statement. "And we're happy."

"Are we?" Abigail said teasingly. "I think you need to speak for yourself."

"I'll remember that, Mrs. Marston," John said with a chuckle. Tbey laughed together, as Abigail snuggled herself closer to his chest. He could her her steady breaths, feel the rise and fall of her chest against his. How was he ever enough for this woman? How had he gotten himself a family, a life? All he knew was that he was happy, Abigail was happy, and they had made themselves a future for Jack.

"Come to bed," Abigail said into his chest, voice muffled by fabric. 

"I'll be there in a couple minutes. I want to check on the horse pen, one of the fence posts was looking a little loose." That was true, but John also just wanted a couple minutes alone, to let himself relax before trying to sleep.

"Alright," Abigail said. She slowly lifted her head, yawned, and gently lifted herself off of the bench. She walked quietly towards the door, placed her hand on the knob, but hesitated to open it. She turned around, looking back at John with the softest of smiles on her face. "And John?"

"Yes, dear?" 

"I love you."

"I love you, too," he said quietly. He remembered during a robbery, he ended up having dinner with some preacher man and his wife while Dutch and Arthur went upstairs on robbed the couple blind. He remembered saying the prayer, his voice low, almost like a hum in the back of his throat. This felt very much the same, except this time he could see who he was praying to.

Abigail disappeared inside the house, and John slowly got up from the bench, heading towards the horse pen. John never thought he'd have this many horses to take care of, either. When the horses caught sight of him, they all headed towards the gate, hoping for a treat.

"Sorry, friends," John said, approaching the pen. "No treats-"

Just then, John heard a sound from behind the barn. It sounded like a footstep, not necessarily a human one. 

He approached slowly, before hearing it again over to his left, far closer this time. The moonlight shone down upon the creature, shimmering on its antlers and silky fur. The deer looked at him with wide, glistening eyes, its ears pointed upwards towards the stars.

And John smiled, because he knew exactly who it was.

**Author's Note:**

> I love them. I 100% want to write more little drabbles for them.


End file.
